


To Guard and Protect

by Maltheniel



Series: The Once and Future King [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Sometimes They come back, but sometimes, he keeps losing them, he's determined to watch the backs of those he cares about, in which Percival tells his story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25201204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maltheniel/pseuds/Maltheniel
Summary: Percival grew up watching his siblings' backs, as they watched his.As the years go by, the people whose backs he guards will change - Lancelot, Gwaine, Merlin. But his determination to protect those he loves never changes.
Relationships: Elyan & Percival (Merlin), Gwaine & Percival (Merlin), Lancelot & Percival (Merlin), Merlin & Percival (Merlin)
Series: The Once and Future King [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774627
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	To Guard and Protect

Percival had always been used to someone having his back.

It started when he was a child, when he was the oldest sibling and Brynne and Wyland would follow him everywhere he went. Naturally they trusted him to defend them the most, but if he stumbled his little sister and brother were there to pull him up. He boosted them up trees; they pulled him from a treacherous bog when he stumbled into it walking ahead of them. They trusted each other, and Percival took it for granted, not knowing things would ever change.

He didn't talk much, even then. It didn't matter. Brynne and Wyland knew him as well as they knew themselves; they understood.

The first blow fell in the destruction caused by the petty warring of two minor lords. Percival and Wyland were out hunting, and came home, cheerful and careless, to find their home burned and their parents and Brynne gone with it.

Percival took Wyland with him and did everything in his power to add strength to his height so he could keep his little brother safe. They learned swordfighting from whoever was willing to teach them so they would never be defenseless again. Percival did everything he could to shield the blows; Wyland watched his back.

It wasn't enough.

When Percival met Lancelot, it was too soon after Wyland's death for him to have grown used to fighting alone; as a matter of fact, the assumption he still made that his back would be guarded was dangerous, and he'd been staying out of battles as much as he could because as soon as he got used to fighting alone, the ghost of Wyland that he imagined guarding his back would be gone and he would be truly alone.

They met when Percival, traveling down the road by himself, ran across a small party who was being attacked by bandits – and one man in a chain-mail shirt trying to fight the bandits off.

He had no one to guard his back, and Percival had chain mail and a sword too. He stepped forward to help the man. They fell into step instinctively, watching each other's blind spots, and it was good.

That night, Percival dreamt of Wyland, and when he woke to a dark-haired man slumbering from exhaustion on his watch feet from him, he felt as if Wyland had given him permission to give Lancelot his place. Someone needed to watch this young man's back, after all.

Percival took Lancelot under his wing and knew he would do everything in his power to teach him he had a man who would watch his back, that he would do everything in his power to keep him from dying.

It wasn't that hard to teach Lancelot to trust him; Lancelot had a good heart and an open one and responded quickly to trust. He was also superb at watching Percival's back in any of the skirmishes they got into. They made a living guarding the roads from bandits and occasionally helping in other skirmishes. It was a lean life, but Percival refused to get involved in any petty squabbling between lords, and Lancelot refused to fight in mock battles, so they made do. There wasn't a lot of talking, but there was deep trust.

Percival never forgot Brynne and Wyland – of course he didn't. But he thought that they'd probably be most happy seeing him happy again.

Lancelot occasionally got letters from Merlin, whenever they stayed in one place long enough for him to send their location to Camelot, and he always read them aloud to Percival. Percival had never met Merlin, but he felt he knew him fairly well through the letters; Merlin's letters were detailed, full of magic and mischief and a prince that Merlin constantly complained about but was obviously utterly loyal to all the same.

"Do you have a problem with magic?" Lancelot had asked him, before he read Merlin's first letter. It was one of the few questions he had asked – he had learned early on that Percival didn't appreciate questions about his past.

"Some magic," Percival allowed. He'd seen the destruction it could wreak a few times on his travels.

"Do you think all sorcerers are evil, then?" Lancelot pressed. He looked more tense than he'd been since their earliest days together.

"Never," Percival said firmly. However poor they were, he and Wyland had never even thought of turning sorcerers into Camelot for the bounty on their heads.

They'd run into a sorcerer on the road one night, a thin, ragged fellow with hollows under his eyes but almost painfully friendly. There had been no use pretending he wasn't a sorcerer – he'd been lighting his fire with magic as they appeared. They had spent a pleasant night with him around the campfire, Wyland and the sorcerer exchanging stories, Percival content to listen.

They'd defended him from the bounty hunter on his tail the next day, given him time to get away.

That was when Wyland had died.

Percival had no problems with the idea of sorcerers.

Lancelot relaxed. "That's good then," he said, "because I have a friend who's a sorcerer." And he proceeded to read Merlin's letter.

At that time, neither Lancelot or Percival had ever thought they'd go back to Camelot, or see Merlin again, or Lancelot would probably have kept the secret to himself.

As it was, when they got a letter in Haldor, telling them that Morgana and Morgause had taken Camelot with an immortal army and asking them to come aid Arthur and a grand total of three warriers to retake it, Percival and Lancelot gave each other one long look – and then simultaneously started packing their things.

"Your enemies are my enemies," Percival told the king. He knew enough from Merlin's letters and what he saw in Arthur today to know that this was a king who would not let families become casualties in war just because they had a good garden to rob for food, that this was a king he could follow.

He didn't expect to be knighted for it, had never dreamed of being a knight, but it was an oddly noble ending to the unfocused beginning he and Wyland had made when they had decided to learn to fight, and he thought he would be honored to watch the backs of the men kneeling beside him.

Most of the knights knew what it was to trust one another, to know someone was fighting at your back and would do everything in their power to keep you alive, but out of the new knights, Gwaine was as unused to having someone to guard his back as Lancelot had been at the beginning due to too many years spent rudderless and alone, fighting his own battles. Unlike Lancelot, he was still wary of any of the knights besides those who had been there at the Round Table, though he hid it under laughter and jibes, and was unwilling to trust anyone to watch his back. Percival made a wordless vow to teach him.

He felt that it was a safe lesson to teach him. Sure, if you got too used to having someone watch your back and then that person fell, you could be in danger if you were alone and assumed you still had someone there for you. There were still days when he felt the ghost of Wyland at his back, the ghost of Brynne laughing at their antics. But here in Camelot, among the knights, their lives were far more stable than anywhere else that men who fought for their lives lived. If Percival fell, another man would step up and take his place at Gwaine's back. Now he just had to teach Gwaine to trust him.

With Wyland, trust had come instinctively from the bond they had as brothers. With Lancelot, it had come easily with spending time together.

With Gwaine it was harder. Trust came slowly, from plucking apples from a tree only he was tall enough to reach and tossing them to his fellow knight, from calling him Sir Gwaine in absolute sincerity whenever he had the opportunity, from speaking up to make occasional light-hearted jibes at his expense, from positioning himself to fight at Gwaine's back in battles when he didn't have to.

The day Gwaine tossed him an apple back with a grin, Percival thought he was getting somewhere. The day Gwaine positioned himself to fight at Percival's back, he knew he was.

It was a good year.

It was just a shame it had to end.

For Percival, it ended the moment Lancelot walked through the veil, while Percival wasn't even there to watch out for him, too busy fighting off wyverns.

Merlin told him through tears that Lancelot died brave and determined, with a little smile on his face.

Percival knew someone had had to die to close the veil, and it wasn't that he would have wished that on anyone else. He just wished it had been him rather than Lancelot.

He had lost the second man he had absolutely trusted.

It was strange, having two ghosts at his back where there had once been one, where there had once been none.

The years came and went, and Percival took them in stride. He risked his lives for his brother-knights, and they risked theirs for him. Arthur became king, and Percival tried to keep an eye on Merlin as much as he could. He had never forgotten about the magic, but he could never figure out how to tell Merlin he knew, and he knew that made him a coward. But words had never come easy to him, and he disliked speaking of Lancelot now as much as he disliked speaking of Brynne and Wyland; he preferred to keep their memories tucked close to his heart, unspoiled by words. And speaking of Merlin's magic would require speaking of Lancelot.

So he tried to keep an eye on him from a distance, making sure he had food and rest on their trips, and told himself that was enough.

And he fought at Gwaine's back when he could, because much as Gwaine trusted the knights of the Round Table with his life, he was still a bit distant around anyone else. Elyan was somehow easier to talk to than most of the others, with his own sense of reticence and sharp sense of humor, and Percival fell in with him whenever he could.

And life was good.

There was the time when Lancelot came back to Camelot. At the start, Percival was overjoyed, willing to overlook the strangeness of it to have his friend back again. But by the end, the whispers through the palace said Lancelot had acted dishonorably with Guinevere, and Percival could never believe that of his honorable friend.

He found Merlin after learning that it had been Merlin who had taken Lancelot for burial. If anyone would know if something had gone wrong, it would be Merlin.

"That wasn't Lancelot, was it?" he asked.

Merlin watched him warily for a long moment, then finally shook his head, turning away with a sigh. "No," he said quietly. "If you want to honor Lancelot's memory, remember him as he was, not as this."

Percival accepted that with no further questions, and did not ask Merlin about it again.

It occurred to him later that he should have told Merlin then what he knew, but at the time he had been too caught up in the sudden, returned grief over Lancelot, and the moment was gone.

Then Elyan died in Gwen's arms, and again Percival was away dealing with the darts and could do nothing to protect him.

Gwaine's death was the worst since Wyland's, though, because it had been Percival who had taught him he could trust, and in the end it was Percival who let him down.

It was Percival who he asked to go with him to destroy Morgana; it was Percival who met Gwaine's eyes as they crouched on the tree, watching Morgana and her men come out, and nodded that he would go right as Gwaine went left, with the understanding that they would each come to the other's aid if that was needed. It was Percival who failed to kill Morgana when he grabbed hold of her, and it was Percival who woke from unconsciousness too late to do anything but snap his bonds and find Gwaine as he died.

Percival hadn't meant to betray Gwaine's trust, but he had done it effectively anyway. And Gwaine, one of the bravest men he knew, felt he died a failure.

He had died with Percival kneeling in front of him, cupping his face, smoothing his hair, begging him to live.

It was exactly the same way Wyland had died, all those years ago.

The weight of Gwaine's ghost at Percival's back was almost too great to bear.

Arthur was dead too, and for a time Percival felt as though everything he had ever fought for had crumbled into dust. He had lost the men he had taught to trust; he had lost the king he had fought for; he had lost the siblings who had trusted him. He had far too many ghosts standing at his back, accusing him of not standing at theirs. He didn't know, for a while, if he could ever let someone else stand at his back as they had again.

"I have magic," Merlin told Percival.

He was trembling slightly as he said it. Percival, shaking himself out of the fog he felt he had been wandering in for weeks, narrowed his eyes and studied Merlin. He had deep bags under his eyes and was somehow even thinner than when Percival had first met him. He looked exhausted and completely worn down.

And he was terrified, Percival realized. Utterly terrified of Percival's reaction.

He had started to babble in the silence as Percival pulled himself together. "I've had it since I was born," he said, talking so rapidly that his words were stumbling over themselves. "And I've used it ever since I came here – but only for Arthur, I swear, only in the good of Camelot. Gwen's planning to make magic legal soon, and she's planning to make me Court Sorcerer, and it's only fair to tell you first –"

"Merlin," Percival said firmly, cutting off the flow of words. "I know."

"And I understand –" Merlin was going on, but he cut himself off abruptly when the meaning of Percival's words sunk in. "Wait. You know?"

He sat down abruptly, and the look on his face was horribly near betrayal.

"I knew before I met you," Percival said quietly. "Lancelot told me." And then, because he couldn't bear the look on Merlin's face at all, he went on, "He did not intend to betray your trust. Neither of us expected to meet you again, and Lancelot wanted to be sure I did not hate magic before he read your letters to me."

Merlin's eyes had drifted away; he looked numb and stunned. After a moment he buried his face in his hands. "Right," he muttered vaguely. "Right."

After a moment he shook his head hard and looked up, a faint, fragile smile that was a poor shadow of his true smile forced onto his lips. "It's not fair to hold a grudge against you if I didn't want you to hold a grudge against me, is it?" he asked with forced lightness. "Just turns out we were both keeping secrets."

Percival was unused to the feeling that he had betrayed someone. When a man trusted him to guard their back, he guarded that trust with his life. The sense that he had let Merlin down completely, that Merlin had given him trust and he had taken that trust to stab Merlin in the back, however unintentionally, was hard to bear, but it was all his own fault, and he accepted it. A dim memory of the time he had trusted the Lamia over Merlin, faded with all the magic involved, floated through the back of his mind, and he knew that for all he prided himself on not breaking trust, he had betrayed the slim man before him more than once.

"Merlin," he said quietly, knowing it was not enough, "I'm truly sorry."

Merlin tried to smile again. "It's not as if it's your fault," he said quietly. "I was the one keeping the larger secret. I just wish –"

He cut himself off, but Percival could fill in the end of his sentence pretty easily. _That I'd known you knew. That I had someone else in on the secret I could share the burdens with._ It wasn't as if he was entirely ignorant of what Lancelot had gotten up to with Merlin.

"It is my fault," he said steadily. "I should have been there to guard you, and by my own cowardice I wasn't." He swallowed, and went on before Merlin could find the words to deny that statement, "I would be honored to guard you now if you would let me."

It was the first time he had verbally spoken the offer, rather than offering it silently through his actions, but this situation needed it.

"Sure," Merlin said quietly, summoning up that ghost of a smile.

It wasn't as if offering it meant it would be accepted. Merlin, he thought, would be harder to teach trust to than Gwaine, and well-deservedly too, as Percival had betrayed him.

That didn't mean that Percival wasn't going to offer his trust through actions, though.

It wasn't nearly as easy to prove to Merlin that he was willing to guard his back as it had been with even Gwaine, mostly because Merlin didn't fight battles the usual way. He fought with magic, and he was used to fighting alone. Percival missed his first several opportunities because Merlin was still sneaking out to fight as he used to.

He finally caught Merlin in the stables one day, saddling a horse.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Errands," Merlin said, not looking at him, and went on with his work.

Percival saddled his horse as soon as Merlin had left and followed him.

Merlin gave him a very annoyed look and a roll of his eyes when he caught up to him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, more snappishly than he usually did.

"You're off to fight something magical," Percival answered him. "And I meant it when I offered to guard you."

"No offense, but I've been doing this on my own for years," Merlin said shortly. "I'm used to working alone."

Percival said nothing, because he had met two men who started with that attitude and they had trusted him in the end. And he might have utterly failed them, he might have led them wrong, but at least he could comfort himself by thinking that they had probably lived longer than they would have without him around.

He wished he'd been as skilled as he was now back when he started out. Maybe Wyland wouldn't have had to die.

In any case, it could do no harm to offer to guard Merlin's back.

"What are we facing?" he asked after a long moment.

Merlin huffed again, but since he answered, Percival figured he couldn't be too mad. "A lone sorcerer that broke away from the Saxons," he said. "He's got a few of the disgruntled men from that army with him, I think."

Percival nodded, and they rode on in silence.

When they came to the ruins where their foes were hiding, there was plenty of work for both Percival and Merlin. The sorcerer faced them with impressive threats against Camelot and the queen on the throne, and Percival tuned him out, left him to Merlin, and focused on not letting any of his men get to Merlin.

There were more than he could deal with on his own, however, and despite his best efforts the mercenaries were menacing Merlin.

Merlin suddenly shouted something, sharp and determined, and everyone in his vicinity went flying off their feet to crash into the walls.

Including Percival.

It was by no means the first time he'd been thrown off his feet by a magic-user, and he shook his head and struggled to get back to his feet quickly. It wasn't as though he blamed Merlin.

But Merlin had gasped sharply and was running to his side. "I'm sorry, Percival!" he exclaimed, reaching out to pull him up. "I'm so, so sorry. I forgot you were there."

Percival accepted his hand, though he mostly got to his feet by his own power. "You're not used to having anyone guard your back, are you?" he asked simply.

Merlin ducked his eyes, looking nearly as fearful as the day he had told Percival about his magic. He didn't answer the question. There was no need for him too.

"Then I'm going to change that," Percival said steadily. He clapped Merlin on the shoulder and moved to check on the others who had gone flying.

When he glanced back over his shoulder, the fear was gone from Merlin's stance, at least, and there was what he thought might be a glimmering hint of hope in Merlin's eyes.

He didn't stop following Merlin on his missions. Eventually, Guinevere started sending either him or Leon along every time Merlin would let her.

Percival overcame his intense dislike of speaking about those who had passed on to tell stories of Arthur to his son, and even stories of Lancelot and Gwaine once in a while too. And one night, when he was watching the prince while the queen finished up the last of her paperwork, with Amhar leaning sleepily against his side and the moon shining bright through the windows, he told Amhar a little about his siblings.

Percival stood by the queen's side and watched her back; he kept an eye out for the quiet threats in the court, the ones that even Leon didn't notice. He fought her battles and kept his loyalty to her. He stood at Leon's side and fought side by side with him.

For some reason he understood Gwaine now more than he ever had. There was only one knight he trusted to stand in the place where all the ghosts had stood, and that was Leon.

Percival met his wife at the wedding when Queen Gwen finally convinced Leon to get married.

Perhaps it was because he had marriage on his mind, but when he saw one of the ladies give congratulations to the new couple with nothing more than warm smiles, he wanted to introduce himself for some reason.

Introduce himself he did, and found out her name was Edalene.

They said almost nothing else to each other the whole evening, but they spent the vast majority of it standing by each other's side or dancing together.

Less than a year after Leon was married, Percival followed his example. He had found the one person he trusted utterly. She was the only one he whispered all his secrets to, as they lay together in the quiet and dark of the night after their marriage, and did not find it difficult to lay himself bare before. She took his secrets and guarded them with her life, and she gave him her secrets in return.

They trusted each other, and neither ever betrayed that trust.

Over the years, Merlin slowly got better about taking Percival or Leon with him when he went off to deal with magical threats. He still seemed to prefer to deal with them himself, but Percival took a page out of Merlin's book and sneaked out of the city when he noticed Merlin leaving, joining up with him when they were too far away from Camelot for him to easily turn back. Eventually, Merlin stopped protesting when he did this and accepted his presence with a tired smile. Percival took that for progress.

Merlin never again injured Percival in his magical battles, even when he threw magic around in a circle, and Percival knew that he had learned at least something about fighting magical battles with someone at your back. He himself was still often useful at thinning out the thugs or wyverns or serkets or whatever nasty backup the sorcerer they faced had, or Merlin could enchant his sword to work on magical creatures if they were attacking, and after a time Merlin seemed to get used to leaving some of the magical creatures to him.

When it came to the point that, during the process of running his plans by Guinevere, Merlin would shoot a sideways glance at Percival in a wordless, non-pressuring invitation to join him, Percival felt as though he had accomplished something tremendous. It wasn't the absolute trust that he would guard their back that Lancelot and Gwaine had given him, but it was a door inched invitingly ajar, and for Merlin, that was huge.

And somehow Merlin didn't die. Through all the years Percival half-guarded his back, Merlin didn't die.

That felt like a miracle.

Percival was glad. He didn't want to know what Merlin's ghost would feel like.

There came the day that Lancelot came back from the dead.

Merlin was clearly desperate to believe that he was really back as himself, and also obviously skeptical that he was. Percival wanted to believe this was his friend, but he had believed that once and been wrong. He didn't need Merlin's request to keep a sharp eye on the man for the rest of the day.

In spite of all that, when Merlin came back and declared that he believed it, that Lancelot was really back – Percival could never remember being happier since the day he married.

He clasped forearms with Lancelot and told him he was glad he was back – and could find nothing more to say.

That wasn't unusual.

Lancelot came back with him that evening, when they finally scattered. Percival introduced him to Edalene, who welcomed him warmly and briefly once things were explained, and his daughters and son. They sat together for a long time before the fire when the others were in bed, not saying much, just being there in each other's company.

That wasn't unusual either.

The fact that they hadn't done this in years was.

The tight hug Percival enveloped Lancelot in before they finally went to their beds, an hour or two before the dawn, wasn't exactly routine either.

But one of Percival's ghosts had suddenly become solid, flesh and warm and real, and Percival felt lighter when he went to bed than he had in years.

Elyan he greeted with a hug and somehow couldn't find anything to say. And then Elyan made one off-hand comment to him, and he talked more during the rest of that picnic lunch than he had to anyone but Edalene in years.

When Gwaine returned, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Percival pulled him into a hug the moment he saw him. "Sorry," was what he said.

He knew Gwaine understood; the other knight inclined his head a bit. "All's well," he said simply, and clasped forearms like they had done it yesterday.

In the second battle against the Saxons, Percival watched his back from start to finish.

When Arthur came back, he said, "My king," and Arthur corrected him, "Arthur," again. And they smiled at each other, overbright, and there was nothing more to say.

Merlin got better about taking someone along to watch his back after the rest of the knights came back. A little bit of that, Percival thought, was that he had finally healed enough to stop punishing himself for not saving Arthur, but the most of it was that Lancelot and Gwaine had come back, and Merlin trusted them, especially Lancelot, to guard his back in a way he had never learned to trust Percival.

Percival knew that Lancelot was the only one who had been brave enough to fight magic with Merlin in their last lives. He knew that Gwaine had made it blindingly clear that he stood with Merlin even over Arthur. He knew that he had broken Merlin's trust, and he knew that he had no right to be hurt.

He was glad that Merlin did know how to trust someone, at least, to guard his back.

It was six months, perhaps, after Arthur's return that Merlin appeared at Percival's elbow one day as he was walking to the courtyard. "So," the Court Sorcerer began cheerfully, "Lancelot and I are riding out at dawn tomorrow morning to deal with the flock of wyverns that's attacking Gawant. Any chance you want to come with us?"

Percival stopped walking and stared at Merlin for a moment, so stunned was he. Merlin had never, never asked Percival to come along – he had always wormed his way along somehow.

There was the offering of new trust in Merlin's eyes, a trust that Percival had thought he would never give him. And Percival was determined never to break it.

"Of course," he said, and reached out to give Merlin the handshake of the knights. After a moment's hesitation, Merlin clasped his forearm strongly.

"I'll see you at dawn, then," Merlin said brightly, and turned to leave.

But for once Percival thought more words were needed. "I did mean it," he said, "when I told you I would be honored to guard you. I still mean it."

Merlin turned to face him. "Yeah," he said. "I know."

He smiled, his old bright smile, and Percival could tell he did know.

Only when Merlin had left did he let himself lean against the wall and draw a few deep breaths. Somehow, finally, Merlin had learned to trust, and he was humble enough to know that it was certainly not entirely due to him.

But it was enough to know that Merlin knew now, too, that Percival would watch his back until the day he died.

There were only two ghosts at Percival's back now, distant and shadowy ghosts that he knew from his childhood and had long made his peace with. He was happy, and he knew they would want him to be happy. And someday, someday when, perhaps, he was old and gray and had protected those he loved one last time, he would see them again in a place where no one needed to watch anyone's back.

Percival and his quiet wife raised four noisy daughters and one equally noisy son, and their children always, always had each other's backs.

**Author's Note:**

> So this story began because I was thinking as I was drifting off to sleep that after Gwaine was a loner for so long, he must have found it difficult to fight with the knights, trusting them to cover him. I'm not sure how my sleepy brain tangled Percival up with this thought, but the next thing you know, I have the basic outline of all Percival's values in my head. 
> 
> (And then after writing this, I realized that he was supposed to have lost his family due to Morgause's immortal army, and that – didn't fit at all with the timeline I'd come up with, so I'm afraid I ignored that part of his story. Sorry! Hopefully you guys can overlook that discrepancy with canon.)
> 
> Anyway, this is my take on Percival! Gwaine is next. :)


End file.
